multiversallogs | Those very rare occasions don't let up, they keep on coming

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Those very rare occasions don't let up, they keep on coming

Who: Apollo and Cassandra
What: The inevitable awkward conversation following a drunken encounter
Where: The Valhalla Inn
When: The night after this
Notes: None
Warnings: Sexual tension and snippy, blunt honesty

The Valhalla Inn was starting to get claustrophobic. Cassandra felt trapped. It was ridiculous, of course. She wasn't a prisoner as she had been on the caravan, as she had been in Willaknapp. Nor was she, as far as she knew, under the sway of the natives of Baedal, as she had been in Rowan. Still, she was anxious to get out. The thought of having a place of her own was appealing, but Cassandra knew herself well enough to know that if she couldn't find someone to share a flat with, she would likely go off the deep end again. When she was alone all the time, she withdrew. She lived up to certain expectations. No, it was definitely better for her to find an anchor, someone she could trust to keep her sane.

For now, however, the only way to relieve the claustrophobia was to keep the door to her room propped open.

Cassandra lay on her stomach, across the foot of her bed, lazily scanning her CiD, examining various network posts. She was finally beginning to get a sense of some of these people, but so far, Ianto--and by default, Jack--were the only ones she felt comfortable telling about her visions. With the monster attacks so fresh in her mind, she felt no end to the frustration about the fact that her dire warnings had not yielded any kind of results. Then again, what could she do? Certainly, she couldn't tell the militia or these Hellsing people. Neither party had demonstrated much to give her any kind of faith. Of course, it would be easier to just try to live a normal life and pretend the visions didn't happen.

But that would be a lie.

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Apollo stared down at her, momentarily horrified by the talk of the pain and blood.

"What? No. Wait, what?"

He cleared his throat, shaking his head. "I had meant, how did it compare to the last two times?" He really had no desire to hear how magical and loving it had been with Othryoneus. He might have to bite a pillow if she began talking about that.

"Oh."

That was slightly embarrassing.

Cassandra was silent a moment before continuing on, a bit quieter than before. "Not as...exciting as the showers," she said lightly. "But better in some ways. Nicer. Sweeter." She frowned. "I'm not sure I have the right words for this yet."

Slightly pink, she turned to look up at him. "Maybe you have them?"

She was blushing.

Apollo tried to remember if he had ever seen her blush. Maybe, back when he had first introduced himself to her. Back when she had still been enthralled by him. But not as an adult, no. She was always above emotions such as shame. Always in control, never flustered.

"Tender?" he ventured to guess. "Affectionate?"

He realized that he was just offering the emotions that he had been feeling himself. Not that he would ever admit to that.

"Yes!" She was a bit more enthusiastic than she intended to be, but those were the precise words she had been looking for. Tender. Affectionate. Words, honestly, that she never would have thought to attach to Apollo. "Both of those would suffice..."

She cleared her throat, shutting her mouth. It seemed to be a little out of control at the moment. Could she blame that on...recent events? Maybe. After all, she didn't know all of the side effects. Aside from pregnancy, of course.

And that reminded her of the tea shop she had visited in town.

Sitting up on her elbow, she reached over to the drawer of her nightstand, pulling it open and taking out a small packet of tea leaves. For the life of her, she could not explain why she had purchased it. She may have been a prophet, but even she couldn't have foreseen tonight.

Well, not for certain, anyway.

Apollo chuckled at the enthusiasm. "I'm glad you approve of the word choice." He made a noise of protest as she sat up, but when he spotted what she was doing, his brow furrowed. Was now really the time to brew a cup of tea?

"What's that?"

Cassandra lay down again, examining the packet in her hands. She didn't really know how to use it. She had only very recently become aware of tea at all. And as for this...this special tea? A completely alien concept to her.

"A precaution," she said quietly, holding the package out for Apollo to see. "Or so I'm told."

"Precaution against what?" he said, taking the package and examining it. He'd tried tea on the caravan. Hadn't cared for it--a little bitter for his tastes, frankly.

"Thirst?"

She laughed a little. Not because it was funny. It really wasn't. But she was suddenly a little bit uncomfortable with the conversation; admittedly, foolish in light of how much more compromising things had been than a few words here and there. But words were hard.

"Pregnancy," she said awkwardly. "I know I'm too thin, but given all of the world-hopping and strange occurrences and such..." What could she say? Nothing.

She shrugged.

"Oh," he said and quickly handed the box back to her. "Yes--yes, you should take care of that."

The last thing they needed in a world like this was a shrieking infant. And Cassandra was not incorrect--she was thin, and her body probably couldn't handle a pregnancy right now. He had children. He did not, as a rule, care for tiny humans. They became increasingly more interesting as they grew older.

Cassandra took it, setting it back on the nightstand. She was fairly certain that she could brew it in the morning. It would, however, serve as a convenient excuse, if she needed a quick escape. Unfortunately, this was her room, so any escape would likely lead to an uncomfortable situation for both of them over the next few days. Hopefully, that wouldn't have to happen.

Apollo's reaction was a bit...unsettling. She knew he had many, many children. One for every lover. And while she did not fancy being added to that list, it bothered her that he seemed so...squeamish.

She wondered how many of them he even knew.

"I guess," she said, trying to shift the mood, "I...some part of me...thought we might end up here."

"I know," he soothed her, stroking her arm again. "I know. I did too."

Not so much thought as knew, but he didn't need to play the cocky card right now. They were in bed together, he didn't want to risk chasing her away.

"Is it still all right if I stay?"

"Yes," she murmured, closing her eyes. She wasn't as easy as she seemed on the surface. There were a lot of thoughts and questions bubbling up inside of her. But it seemed so senseless to ask them, to upset the peace of the room.

Still, there was one sticking point. "Are you going to stay?" she asked. "Or return the favor from the caravan?"

She paused. "I guess I couldn't blame you."

"Of course I'm staying," he chastised her gently. The thought had occurred to him. It certainly had occurred to him the morning he'd woken up and she was gone. He'd thought that if the situation ever happened again, that he'd sneak off before she could.

Of course, she couldn't sneak off from her own room--well, that wasn't true. She could, it would just be counterproductive. Besides, he wanted to stay.

"I'll be here when you wake up."

Cassandra smiled ever-so-slightly. "I wonder what that will be like," she murmured.

She wondered it for both of them.

"I guess we'll find out."

He wrapped a curl around his finger, admiring the glossy sheen of it. That was something brunettes would always have over blonds. Menelaus and Paris could keep their Helen. There was no admiring the way her hair glistened when the sun hit it.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, absently, still toying with her hair.

Cassandra opened her eyes. The question, to her, at least, seemed to come out of nowhere. There was clearly a second part to it, but the odds seemed high that she wouldn't like the second part. It probably wasn't fair to make that kind of assumption, but Cassandra's self-defense instincts were strong. Powerful. Unshakeable.

"That depends," she said diplomatically. "It depends on what you're about to ask of me."

She reached out, touching his cheek. "You were going to follow that up with something, weren't you?" she asked.

He laughed, placing his hand over hers. "I'm sorry, no, I wasn't following it with anything. Although, if I'm asking favors of you, I would like a curl to take with me when I go."

He pressed his lips against her hair for a moment, and pulled away. "No, I was only thinking--well, I'm surprised you trust me to stay the night with you. That was all."

She gave him a funny look. "Don't make me second guess myself," she warned lightly, with a hint of playfulness. "Now I'm starting to suspect that you're plotting something." Of course, she couldn't think of much for him to plot, in light of what had just happened. What was the worst thing he could possibly do to her?

Then again, she knew the lows to which some so-called human beings could stoop.

"As for my hair, we had that conversation already," she scolded him. "I've already dedicated my hair to you once. That didn't work out so well."

"I'm not asking for you to dedicate your hair to me," he insisted, squeezing her around the shoulders. "Just a memento, nothing dark."

He glanced back down at her. "Don't second guess yourself. I just...wondered."

The irony was delightful. So delightful that Cassandra laughed. Now who was the curious one? She liked that. She liked that a lot.

Leaning over, she opened up the drawer of the nightstand again, pulling out a knife. It was the one she had brought to the temple, when Apollo managed to offend everyone with a fairly reasonable observation. Another interesting reversal, she supposed.

Swiftly, she cut off one of her curls, pinching the hairs together and offering them to Apollo. Frankly, she had no idea why he would want such a thing. It couldn't be more than a romantic gesture and she actually, rather appreciated that.

Replacing the knife, she settled down against the pillows, closing her eyes. "Do with that as you please."

He took the curl and leaned over to set it on the dresser. "Thank you. I'll take it with me when I leave tomorrow."

He propped himself on his elbow, turning to look at Cassandra. "What about you? Is there any boon you'd like to request of me?" Fair was fair, after all.

She laughed softly again, without opening her eyes. Some people probably found the idea of exchanging hair hopelessly romantic, but Cassandra thought it a little bit silly. "No," she said gently. "Nothing that I can think of. For the moment, anyway. There may come a day in the future, though. It'll hit me suddenly."

Cassandra pulled the blankets of her bed up to her chest, shivering slightly. "Maybe in the morning," she murmured sleepily. "That's exciting to think about, isn't it? The morning..."

For her, anyway.

"Sleep," he said, softly, brushing her hair away from her forehead. "It's very, very late and you need your energy for the morning. We can go out for breakfast before I go to work."

That was normal, wasn't it? He'd seen people around here, couples and friends and co-workers, having breakfast together in the little cafes around the city.

Yes. That seemed like a good plan.

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Those very rare occasions don't let up, they keep on coming

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